


Kitten Sittin'

by Celly1995



Series: Kitten Kaner [4]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Animal Transformation, Fluff, Kitten Patrick Kane, M/M, POV Animal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 07:39:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18278765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celly1995/pseuds/Celly1995
Summary: Patrick being stuck as a kitten was bound to happen sometime when Jonny couldn't be there. Thankfully, there's a trustworthy kitten-sitter available.





	Kitten Sittin'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hippietoews](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippietoews/gifts).



> My muse has been AWOL since early January, so I asked hippietoews for a prompt yesterday, hoping I could lure said muse out with the offer of a new plaything before getting back to work on the massive thing I've been working on. I was praying to manage at least 200 words. Somehow, I ended up with around 2500 of them in one sitting. It only seemed fair to gift Ashley the fic that her prompt inspired, as a massive thank you for the kick in the butt. Thanks also to Esby, who gave this a quick looking over and came up with the title.

It's...weird, not having Jonny around when he's like this.

He's just so used to it, like the two things go hand-in-hand. If Patrick's a kitten, then Jonny's right there, with him, making sure he's safe and taken care of. Jonny understands him more and more each time this happens, and it makes life so much easier, whether the transformation was intentional or accidental. 

But Jonny's not here right now. 

There are words being spoken to him from high above his head, but none of them mean anything to Kaner. They're definitely meant for him, though. When he tries to describe it later, the best explanation he'll be able to come up with is likening the experience to the way the adults sound when they're talking to Charlie Brown in the old cartoons. But that analogy isn't something he can produce right now; it's a little too complex, a little too specific, for him to be able to recall or grasp. He has no idea what the words mean—and they're definitely words—but the tone is pleasant and conversational, so Kaner looks up and meows, letting the pitch raise the way it would if he were speaking, the inquiry conveyed by the lift at the end of the sound he draws out just a little. 

"You understand better this way, then?" Words replace the unintelligible sounds, and this, at least, Kaner has no trouble grasping. He chirps back an affirmative; he knows his message comes across as easily as it usually does for Jonny this time, because there's happiness in the tone at the next words he can process. "Right. Okay. I English, you cat. Meet in middle, I guess." There's a hand extended toward him, but it stops just short of contact. "Uh. Is...okay? To do this?"

Eye-rolls aren't really a natural thing for him right now—not that he hasn't managed one or two, to make an especially pointed reaction to something Jonny's said or done—and it's easier to just cut to the chase, anyway. This is Artemi Panarin—someone who's already seen him this way once before, someone Patrick's comfortable with in all forms—and he should already know the answer to this, in asking if he's allowed to pet Kaner when he's like this, if it's something that's socially acceptable for either of them.

Besides, if Kaner gets tired of it—or if it's too rough or annoying—that's nothing a little nip to the hand won't illustrate pretty clearly.

It's simpler to just answer with a gesture when he's like this, giving his id free reign and letting instinct guide him in a way that's nearly impossible to do when he's human. He doesn’t even really think about it, just shoves his head into Artemi's palm, craning his neck so that he forcibly uses the hand to pet himself. 

It gets his point across. Artemi laughs and moves from his awkward half-crouch so that he's sitting back on his heels, much closer to Kaner's level. "Okay, I understand," he says, laughter still in his voice as he scratches underneath Kaner's chin in a way that's _almost_ as good as when Jonny does it. If he moved his finger back and forth just a little bit quicker, he'd have it. Not one to discourage the effort here, Kaner lets a soft purr vibrate through him and express his general approval anyway. "Keep me company on couch and we do this more, yes?"

Kaner's enough of a slut for decent chin-scratches and rhythmic, nap-inducing petting that he tears across the living room with no additional urging, leaping up onto his favorite cushion of the couch and favoring Artemi with an impatient look before Artemi even gets entirely off the floor. As a human, he'd be a little ashamed of that eagerness. But as a cat, fuck it, time is being _wasted_ here, okay? 

Not everyone might share in his priorities, but Kaner definitely has them.

He's used to climbing right onto Jonny's chest and rubbing his face against Jonny's chin while they lounge on the couch, but he doesn't go full-tilt possessive on Artemi in the same way, and he doesn't even need the human bit of reasoning he retains to overrule his id on this one. It just doesn't feel necessary or feel _right_ like it does with Jonny. He's content enough to tuck his paws underneath his chest and settle in next to Artemi's thigh as the TV begins blaring just a hair louder than Jonny keeps it when Kaner's a cat. 

Artemi's hand is warm and the good kind of heavy as he strokes from Kaner's head to halfway down his back before lifting up and repeating the movement. It's nice, pleasant and relaxing in the regularity of the movements, and Kaner closes his eyes and purrs softly, letting the sound resonate throughout him and drown out most of the noise of the television. 

He must fall asleep for a while, because the next thing he's aware of, there's noise coming from the kitchen and no one on the couch beside him. He stretches and leaps neatly down onto the floor, heading for the kitchen and hoping Artemi knows to feed him.

There's food in his bowl, but not anything like the special meals or treats Jonny offers him sometimes. Kaner doesn't know how to clue Artemi in to the fact that there's shredded chicken breast in a container on the second topmost shelf in the refrigerator without doing something like scaling his way up Artemi's legs and back and perching on his shoulder to meow in his ear, or just jumping into the fridge and batting at the food he wants until it's retrieved for him. But he's had enough experience—and has enough presence of mind at the moment—to know that either of those things is more likely to get him scolded than rewarded with what he wants. 

He _still_ feels just a little guilty when he remembers the way Jonny had yelled when Kaner had dug his claws in for purchase, only to slice through the skin and draw blood instead. He hadn't meant to cause injury, but the lower human tolerance for pain and the much thinner skin are things that just don't float up to his conscious mind most of the time when he's like this. He does a little better with that stuff these days, remembering to temper his bites and consciously retract his claws when he kneads at Jonny's thigh or his back, but the feline overrules the human sometimes, and that's just a simple fact neither he nor Jonny nor anyone else he might be around in these situations can escape.

Kaner wanders back into the living room after eating his fill, leaving Artemi to whatever it is he's eating back in the kitchen. It's too late for there to be any patches of sunlight left that he can curl up in, so Kaner contents himself with lying on a hoodie of Jonny's that's been left on the floor at some unspecified point, stretching out and giving himself a thorough grooming until Artemi's ready to resume petting him.

He's almost done with his grooming routine when something bright and feathery flies past, visible in his periphery, and Kaner immediately forgets what the fuck he was doing, all other thoughts and desires suddenly replaced by the need to hunt. 

It takes a few minutes, but Kaner's pretty goddamned pleased with himself when he manages to get the cluster of feathers not only clutched between his paws, but also freed from the string that kept him from being able to get a good hold on it—a complication Artemi found far more amusing than he really had a right to, since Kaner's fairly sure he could have helped him out at least a little bit when trying to plot and execute his attack. 

Still, all in all, he'd call this a successful hunt. 

The feathers lose their appeal after he's gnawed on them for a while, and it doesn't really hit him how much energy he's expended during the attack until he climbs back onto the couch, a yawn overtaking him as he ponders whether he'd rather wedge himself next to Artemi for the warmth, or perch atop the back of the sofa, where he can survey everything with minimal effort. It's a tough decision, and so he avoids making it, opting instead to flop onto his side, the back of his head touching the side of Artemi's knee, yawning again as he stretches the muscles that had been held taut in concentration while readying himself to pounce upon his prey not long ago.

A hand gently strokes his side, avoiding straying too close to his belly, and that's all right. He stretches out even more, flexing his paws so that his claws extend. They're useful tools, and he has an urge to dig them into the upholstery or some carpet, but doesn't want it badly enough to get up from his spot. 

Maybe after a nap. Yes, that sounds better. 

He falls asleep much more swiftly this time, replaying his successful attack on the stubborn bunch of feathers that usually manages to escape, and when he feels himself being moved, he doesn't even bother waking fully, only grumbling his vague irritation at having his sleep interrupted. He hears a soft laugh permeate his semi-conscious hazy state, and he grunts again, with even less conviction. Fingers slide across the top of his head, and Kaner gives a half-hearted little purr. 

"He wear himself out with feather toy," he hears from above him. "Um. He get it off string while playing. Sorry."

There's a deeper laugh in response, and Kaner stirs a little. He knows that laugh—knows it means safety and comfort and affection—even when he's still half asleep. "Don't worry about it. It's the fifth one he's destroyed. I've got a bunch of them hidden where he can't get them, as replacements. Thanks again for keeping an eye on him."

"Like I say, is no problem. Any time you need, let me know. He behave."

Kaner feels a little smug at the praise, but it's short-lived, because the next words he hears are "yeah, behaves for _you,_ anyway." There's more jostling, and he mumbles another protesting meow, making his discontent plain, but then he's being cradled in a way that makes him feel secure, and he doesn't feel the need to complain much anymore. Something rubs along his jawbone, and Kaner instinctively stretches his neck, exposing his chin even as his eyes remain closed. He's rewarded with chin-scratches just the way he likes them best, and his purr is automatic and strong, a rumble throughout his entire body in response to the blissful attention being bestowed upon him. 

"He very loud for you," Kaner hears Artemi say, and then there's a set of three pats atop his head, a finality to the gesture that Kaner vaguely recognizes as a goodbye. He turns his face into Artemi's palm, rubbing his cheek there for a moment to return the affection before squirming so he can wedge his head underneath the chin he instinctually knows he'll find there. "Seem happy you're home."

"Yeah, maybe," are the words Kaner hears, but the tone speaks louder than the language does, warm and full of fondness. It's a voice that always stirs something within him, whether in this state or a human one, and Kaner nuzzles Jonny's chin and works himself deeper into Jonny's hold. He cracks his eyes open at the sound of the front door unlatching and lets out a little chirp of a meow as Artemi waves before turning back around and heading down Jonny's walkway. 

He's got his face shoved in Jonny's, rubbing his cheek hard against Jonny's jaw the second the door clicks shut again, wanting to make sure Jonny smells like him, smells like _his_ again. He trusts Artemi, but it's Jonny he loves, and he needs him to know it.

"Yeah, I missed you, too, buddy," Jonny murmurs, scratching Kaner's chest with the tips of his fingers as he dips his head and rubs his face back against Kaner's. "But I'm back, okay?" The words are just the ones Kaner wants to hear, and he purrs even harder, nosing at the spot behind Jonny's ear. Jonny laughs, just a quiet huff of amusement. "You _are_ loud right now. You sound like a fuckin' motorcycle." He gathers Kaner up more securely in his arms, scratching his chest as he walks them both towards the couch. "You know I love you like this, but anytime you're ready to change back is fine with me," Jonny says, settling them both together on the couch, and this time he's the one who yawns. "'Cause sometimes after weeks like this, all I want to do is hang out and laugh at stupid shit with you and sleep in as late as physically possible just knowing you're here with me."

There's a lot to be said for being in this state, not caring about much except the way he feels, free from overthinking and complicating everything—but sometimes there are things he wants to say, things he wants Jonny to know, and he can't make that happen while he's a cat, no matter how much easier life is like this. He waits until Jonny's dozed off before slinking into the master bedroom and changing back where there's plenty of space, then takes a moment to reorient himself, clean up a bit, and slip into a pair of Jonny's old sweats and a T-shirt. When he kneels in front of the couch and nudges at Jonny's shoulder, Jonny blindly reaches out on instinct, his hand curled the way it usually is when he drags Kaner closer to be pet, and Patrick watches as Jonny processes the change in circumstances as his hand skims over the bare skin of Patrick's forearm. 

A smile slowly spreads across Jonny's face when he opens his eyes to meet Patrick's, and Patrick doesn't need the pure, uncomplicated thought processes of a cat to know that this is exactly what he wants in life. "I'm back," he murmurs, a vague echo of Jonny's own assurance just a little while ago. He knows things were stressful earlier, enough that he'd been able to change with almost no effort. But now, looking at the smile Jonny has for him and the way he reaches out to pull him down into a sweet, gentle kiss, Patrick can't remember how anything in the world could make him feel like his life wasn't perfect.


End file.
